Shadow's Claim

Chapter 40

The next morning, rain poured outside, the wind whipping Bettina’s tower, lightning flashing all around.

But she was cozy inside her workshop, humming as she polished the most important piece of jewelry she’d ever created.

A wedding ring for tonight’s ceremony.

She’d started on it as soon as Daciano had left her at dawn. In the hours before that, they’d laughed, touched, and explored each other’s bodies in her bed. Actually, it was now their bed, in their rooms. He’d claimed them as well.

With Daciano in her life, suddenly her spire didn’t feel like a cloistered prison, but a hideaway for them from the world.

“I dunno what tune you’re hummin’,” Salem said as he appeared beside her, “but I’ll bet the lyrics go like this: ‘I—love—sex.’ ”

Bettina shrugged mysteriously, deciding not to be one to kiss and tell. But, yes, she did in fact now love sex. She had decided this after the first time, then enthusiastically confirmed it on the second and third.

She and Daciano probably would have enjoyed a fourth, but he’d been hindered by his healing wounds.

Just before he’d traced away this morning, he’d tucked her into bed. His hair had been tousled over his forehead, his eyes devilish. “I have some things I have to take care of today. But I await more of this tonight.”

She’d been wide-eyed and not a little awed by her vampire lover. As he’d pressed a kiss to her hair, he’d murmured, “Last night, I made you my Bride; tonight, I’ll make you my wife.”

Bettina Daciano? Instead of the constant crushing loss she’d come to expect in this tournament, now all she felt was excitement. To be his wife? To have an immortal lifetime of nights like the last, of losing herself in his onyx gaze . . . ?

There’d been no sleep for her; she’d rushed to her workshop and started on a gold band for him. It was simple in design to suit his taste.

And now, she understood the symbolism of an unending circle more than she ever had.

“Oh, and by the way, right thanks to you for the proverbial sock on the doorknob, flatmate,” Salem said, occupying the backboard. “I had nowhere to go.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t return to my room, you peeping phanTom.”

“Of course I returned. Would’ve stayed too. But last night, you and the vamp were so loving—and yet oh, so durty—it messed wiv me mind.” He made a shuddering sound. “Seems you got over Cas quickly enough. R.I.P. tonight, demon. Hookers the worlds over will go into mourning.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nothing is going to happen to Cas. Daciano found an escape clause in the rules because he’s brilliant. Bottom line: both of them are going to live.” She tucked the polished band into a velvet pouch for safe keeping.

Instead of sharing her happiness, Salem merely said, “Sounds a little too good to be true.”

“The vampire can’t lie, and he said they’d both survive.” But Salem’s comment got her thinking. The outcome might be as she wanted it, but the crowd’s reaction might not be.

If there was a draw at the end, the rowdy and drunken Abaddonae might riot. Some entourages of fallen contestants still lingered—would they accuse Rune of fixing the tournament?

Thinking like a queen? Perhaps she should institute some precautions. She could assign soldiers to trail the entourages, then station even more guards at the ready for crowd control.

Should she ration the demon brew? No, that’d be wildly unpopular. She tapped her chin. But free baked goods would soak it up! She began scribbling her decrees for tonight.

“So you think this ‘draw’ is going to make everything just peachy?” Salem asked.

She stilled. “Maybe I do.”

“And what about the tension between the vamp and Caspion? Daciano’s still an assassin—what’s to keep him from offing Cas directly after the tournament?”

“Me. He knows I could never forgive him for that.” She’d told Daciano as much in the folly.

Salem shimmered from the backboard into a nearby drill bit. “All right, say the leech actually gives the demon a pass. You can’t be thinking that the two of them’ll just live here and be chums. Two swinging-dick alphas like that? You’re deluded if you believe they won’t be at each other’s throats.”

“It won’t happen. I won’t allow it to happen,” Bettina said, as if she were used to getting her way. Perhaps she hadn’t been in the past, but in the future—

“Don’t be a git. Daciano’s going to run Cas out of this kingdom—and your life—at the earliest.”

“They’ll both be in my life, Salem. My husband and my best friend. Eventually I’ll bring them around.”

“Lemme know how that goes for you, dovey. . . .”

She sensed Morgana arriving then. “Godmother’s here.” She’d wondered when the sorceress would show up to gossip.

Bettina and Salem were waiting in the sitting room when the doors to the spire whooshed open.

“Wine! Details!” Morgana looked different this morning. She always had a glow about her, but now she seemed cheery. . . .

They took their wine on her settee, Salem returning to his perch in Morgana’s headdress.

Instead of providing the salacious account Morgana expected, Bettina revealed the new development: that both males would survive tonight.

Yet the sorceress didn’t seem overly surprised by the information. “That’s interesting,” she said as she examined the end of a braid. “Alert me when we’re about to get to the good parts.”

“Fine! I was with the vampire, and it was wonderful, okay?”

She peered at Bettina’s neck. “He didn’t bite you?”

“No, I asked him to wait—and he did.”

“Interesting,” Morgana repeated.

“Oh, she had that leech in a right state,” Salem explained. “She could’ve asked him to slam a sun shooter, and he’d have demanded seconds. Seems the chit’s got some upskirt action we hadn’t suspected—”

“In any case,” Bettina interrupted firmly, talking over her blush, “I have a lot of stuff to do. I need to make sure we’re prepared for any reaction the crowd might have.”

“Oh, is this a bad time? It sounds like you’re a very important freakling now. Kind of a big deal. Huh?”

“One night o’ sex, and she thinks she’s Madonna,” Salem quipped.

“You’re obviously busy.” Morgana rose. “I guess I can wait till a more convenient time to talk to you about your power.”

“P-power?”

“The tides have turned. This Accession, the Sorceri will rise once more. Thanks to the scythe.”

“How? What does that mean? Y-you said you couldn’t get my sorcery back from the weapon. That it was just a conduit to get powers up to the vault.”

“I lied. I wasn’t sure if this was possible at the time, and my style is to under-promise and over-deliver. But I’ve used my unparalleled abilities and the full force of my sorcery to—how do I put this?—reverse the flow. Only two virgins and a basket of puppies had to be sacrificed for the ritual.”

Bettina swallowed, hoping she was kidding. “You’ve stolen back all the Sorceri powers?”

“Naturally I’ve collected a few abilities for my own—a kind of tax on my subjects, as it were, for our defense. But most powers will be returned to their rightful owners.”

Bettina’s heart began to pound. Like this rightful owner?

“Incidentally, after I downloaded all those powers, I uploaded a nasty little spell for our Vrekener foes.”

“What kind of spell?”

“Let’s put it this way: the mighty? Oh, how they will fall. And that’s all I’ll say on the subject.”

Bettina didn’t care, her mind focused on one thing. “Am I to get my power back?”

“There’s something you must agree to first.”

She was about to cry, “Anything!” But then Bettina realized she was no longer that girl—the one who’d begged, the one who’d agreed to the tournament in the first place. “Tell me, Morgana.”

“You must never use this power against the Valkyries. At least not until after the Accession.”

“What? Why?”

“That Valkyrie soothsayer was the one who predicted the scythe would come into play in this tournament. She provided Raum and myself with inside information,” Morgana said, adding dryly, “though she neglected to mention that she was divining for both of us.”

A Valkyrie had been turning the crank? “The raven-haired one? But you hate the Valkyries.”

“Hate? Just because I secretly wanted them all dead? It was never personal.” She waved a hand, as if at a buzzing fly. “It seems the Sept of Sorceri are now siding with the good guys. Apparently, Team Vertas doesn’t mind that I’m evil. Once you’re queen of Abaddon, I suggest you align your kingdom accordingly, so my new Valkyrie besties and I don’t have to annihilate you.”

“Team Vertas,” Bettina repeatedly dumbly. She supposed it could be worse. The great Sabine and her new husband were allying with those “good guy” factions. “I agree to your condition.”

“Good. And now that we’ve taken care of the fine print”—Morgana’s hand started to emit light—“would you like to be made whole?”

Mouth gone dry, Bettina nodded. She wished Daciano were here to see this moment. She wished Cas were by her side. And Raum.

She gazed in Salem’s direction.

“Go on, Princess, get your heart-stopping on!”

As Bettina crossed to her, Morgana raised her hand, and more light boiled up from her palm. Heated air began to flutter around the sorceress’s body, her gold jewelry vibrating.

At once, a rare wind blew, rocking the spire, bursting open the balcony doors. Rain pelted the interior. The flame chandeliers hissed and died. The wind twisted inside the round room like a tornado, scattering sodden papers and silks.

“Are you ready?” Morgana queried over the din.

The air was heavy with magic; it pricked at Bettina’s skin. Her hair tossed in the wind. “I’m ready!” She inhaled deeply—

Morgana’s hand suddenly went dark. The wind died, the sorcery dissipated. “You know, I just remembered how you doubted me. It seems this tournament has been wonderful for you. But you complained incessantly about the minor details, like the countless deaths. Bitch, bitch, bitch—”

“Morgana!”

“Who’s your favorite godmother? Who’s the best sorceress in the entire Lore? Say it.”

With a roll of her eyes, Bettina muttered, “Morgana’s the best sorceress in the entire Lore.”

Mollified, her godmother said, “Then enjoy.” She shoved her palm against Bettina’s forehead. Fire seemed to leap from the sorceress’s hand. The wind howled once more.

Bettina’s body seized, her back arching, her limbs twisting. But Morgana held her aloft, pouring sorcery into her, as if into an empty vessel.

“Almost done, freakling. Almost . . .”

Levitating. Heat rushing. Bettina’s muscles knotted until she thought they would snap—

“There!” Morgana finished, releasing her at last.

Gasping breaths, Bettina clutched her godmother’s shoulder for balance. Is it back? Am I whole?

Salem laughed. “That was bloody brilliant, ladies! And oddly arousing. If I had a body, I’d be cock-up right now.”

Amber light filled Bettina’s palms. The excruciating emptiness she’d suffered had disappeared. Happiness bloomed, manifesting itself in swirls of sorcery all around her. “Oh, my gold. It’s . . . back.” She staggered before she found her footing.

Perhaps I have finally found my footing?

“Consider that a wedding gift.” Morgana smoothed her hair. “Now. What shall you wear for your nuptials tonight?”

Though hours had passed since Morgana had left, and the day’s storm had long abated, the vampire still hadn’t appeared.

Even after her shocking turn of fortunes, Bettina grew apprehensive. No, think of something else. Like your wedding!

Tonight, after the final round, she would return here and change, then Raum would escort her to court.

She gazed over the bridal ensemble laid out across her bed. It had been Eleara’s. The skirt consisted of tulle layers with an ivory silk overlay and a train. Gloves cut to match. The top was an elegant bustier, forged of—what else?—white gold.

Morgana had used her sorcery to update a couple of touches and freshen the fabrics. Then she’d tossed a glamour over her own face to disguise her misting eyes. The afternoon had been wonderful; even Morgana had said, “I think we just bonded. Is this bonding?”

So why was Bettina laden with this apprehension? Why hadn’t Daciano checked in? What if his plan was being derailed right at this moment? What if Cas wasn’t safe?

At the very least, she needed to be privy to the vampire’s plan—so she could take the news to Raum, the de facto referee.

Decided, she donned her cloak, readying to set out for Daciano’s tent. On her way out, she passed Salem, reading mags.

“Oi! You need an escort?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” she said. I think. We’ll see.

“I’m supposing you will be, now that you’re the Queen of Hearts again.”

She frowned. Cas assumed she was braver because the Vrekeners had perished. Salem thought she’d been emboldened by her power.

Sure, these things hadn’t hurt matters. But Cas and Salem didn’t understand—even without those developments, Bettina still would’ve made this walk.

After the last two nights with the vampire, something had shifted with her thinking. Not simply because a strong, sexy vampire had told her greatness resides in you—but because she’d begun to see that he might just have a point. . . .

“I’ll be back soon,” she told Salem.

Out on the street, the buildings didn’t loom so large. Maybe the more she pushed herself, the easier it would be?

The easier for this mouse to twitch her tail at the sky.

When she reached Daciano’s tent, she ducked under the flaps, careful not to let even the setting sunlight in. She found him alone, looking as if he’d just stopped himself midsentence.

She peered around. “They were just here, weren’t they? Your cousins?”

“Yes. They congratulated me on my success, on winning you and this realm’s crown.” His appearance startled her.

Whereas she was refreshed and invigorated, he looked distracted and weary, so different from how he’d been just hours before. Now his face was pale and dark circles marred the skin under his eyes. He looked like he’d lost weight over the day, his tailored clothing hanging looser on his frame. And why not? Much of his blood stained the clay ground of the Iron Ring. If he wasn’t drinking to replenish it . . .

“They also brought word of Lothaire. It seems he has found the way to make his Bride immortal. They are bonded.”

“That’s amazing.”

“It’s been a long time coming. We have voted to install them as regents. Or at least, my cousins have.”

She went to him, laying her hands on his chest. “That must be bittersweet for you.”

“There is much to . . . take in. Over a span of mere days, I’ve been blooded, surrendered one kingdom to become king of another, and forsaken the Realm of Blood and Mist for Abaddon, the land of my Bride.”

I will make you happy here, vampire. You won’t regret it. “When was the last time you slept through a day?” A brutal tension seemed to be grinding inside him. This close she could perceive it.

“Weeks.” His lips curled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ve had much to do with the tournament and with my last duties to Dacia. In any case, I’ll sleep once I’ve made you my wife. We won’t leave our bed for days.”

Though that sounded heavenly, she still worried about his health. “You aren’t drinking either?”

His gaze strayed to her pulse again. The idea of his weakness and thirst brought on a pang of worry.

Maybe I should have let him bite me. He’d made everything else wonderful for her; why should that prove any different? Tonight, she would bare her neck for him.

For now, she went to his sideboard and poured a goblet of blood from a crystal carafe. In the past, she might have found it distasteful, but now it was literally her vampire’s lifeblood. “Here, Trehan. Drink.”

He groused—like a typical male—but he did take the glass, downing it with a grimace. “All other blood is foul after I’ve tasted yours.” Then he frowned. “Why are you here? Is something wrong?”

Maybe she could tell him about her power later. He seemed to have a little too much on his mind just now. “I need to know more about your plan for tonight.”

“Why?”

“For one, it involves me. And I don’t walk blindly into situations like this anymore.”

He tilted his head appraisingly. “Very well.” He traced to the heavy contract scroll, hefting it in one hand. “I read every minuscule handwritten word of text in this, every rule.”

“But isn’t it written in old Demonish?”

“Correct. Which proved time-consuming to translate—another reason I’m fatigued.” He shrugged. “Though the language is Demonish, the rules are based on ancient Sorceri law, from a time when your kind valued gallantry. There’s a mercy clause.”

“What does that mean?”

“If one competitor is facing certain death, the prize female can bestow a favor upon him, removing him from the tournament, but saving his life. When I have Caspion at the point of my sword, you’ll plead mercy. And then the tournament will be ended.”

Mercy? “But I thought there was some way for it to be a draw between you and Cas.”

“Then you were mistaken. There must be a victor.”

“I have no idea what Cas will do. Vampire, he’s very proud. He was a foundling, has had to work his way up in the world. This plea might be intolerable for him. He could lash out.”

And Cas had been getting stronger with each kill. Though she was under no illusion that he could defeat the vampire, Cas might not be easy to subdue without hurting himself in the process.

“All will be well,” Daciano said. “I have this under control.”

If she’d known this information a little sooner, she could have sat Cas down and tried to explain the situation to him, to persuade him to accept it. Now she’d be lucky if she found him before the match at all. “There’s absolutely no way to have a tie?”

Daciano shoved his fingers through his disheveled hair. Voice growing louder with each word, he asked, “I’ve found a way to save his life, and that’s not good enough for you?”

“I-I just wish I had known.” He’d never raised his voice to her.

“Why? What would have changed?” His eyes flashed black with fury. “Last night in your bed?”

She swallowed. “I-I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure. And I don’t want to fight with you. I should probably let you rest.”

“You’re going to find Caspion then!”

She thought about lying, considering all avenues to smooth this over. But she refused to be browbeaten. If this vampire wanted to share her life, then he’d best understand that Cas would always have a place in it. “First I’m going to see Raum—so he’ll know to end the fight when he hears the plea. But then, I am going to talk to Cas, to explain this to him. Otherwise, he might do something hotheaded and charge you. I just want to make sure that you’ll both come out of this unharmed.”

Menace rolled off the vampire. “You don’t trust me to control what happens in the ring against a whelp like him?”

“Whelp?” His condescension rankled.

“I’ve told you to trust me, Bettina.”

Her chin shot up. “And I’ve told you I need to take this to my friend, out of caution.”

His fangs sharpened, glinting in the firelight. “Always you think of Caspion!”

Perhaps she had been deluded to think she could bridge the distance between Daciano and Cas. “Please, just calm down—”

“Calm down? Do you know how many times that phrase has been uttered to me? Never. You’ve got me on the razor’s edge, Princess!” He gave a bitter laugh, and she thought he muttered, “Backsliding.”

If she’d ever wondered what a blood-starved, exhausted, jealous Dacian would look like . . . behold. She’d try one more attempt at reason. “Trehan, I am grateful for what you’ve done. I should have told you that. Like I said, I don’t want to argue with you. But there are other things to consider. I’m just trying to prepare everyone involved. I know better than anyone the danger of being unprepared.”

At that, he inhaled deeply, clearly making an effort to rein in his temper. “I will speak to Raum. Afterward, I’ll escort you to the ring.”

“No, that wouldn’t be right. This round might be a formality, but—”

“Eşti a mea, Bettina!” He gripped her shoulders, bringing her face close to his. “You are already mine. Forever, you belong to me!”

She remembered something else Salem had said: The cold ones go big. “Vampire, be practical. The people might take cues from me and back you more than they already do.” No one to cheer for Caspion? He’d fought hard to advance this far in the tournament, risking his life repeatedly—he’d earned some consideration.

And he’s about to lose so much.

“Your people should take cues from you.”

“What I mean is that everyone will think I’m siding with you over Cas.” Perception is reality.

“You are!”

She shook her head. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is! Then you’re not choosing me over him?”

The vampire’s already driving the wedge! “Don’t put it like that! And don’t put my back against the wall over this!” Bettina would be damned if they set this precedent. With your actions, you train others how to treat you. “Cas will have a place in my future—resign yourself.”

“Do you or don’t you choose me?”

“You’re not being fair to me, and you’re not hearing me!” He seemed to interpret everything she said as: I want Cas. “I choose both of you—for different things. Trehan, I can’t turn my back on him just because of how I feel about you—”

“Not good enough!” he snapped. In a softer tone, he added, “There will be only one male in your life—me. Tonight in the ring, I will explain this to Caspion. By the time his bones mend, he’ll fear ever to look at you again.”

“Enough!” she cried. “What is wrong with you?” Where is my tender, gentle vampire from last night? “You’re about to get everything—this victory, your Bride, the entire kingdom. Cas gets nothing! And now you want to grind him under your boot? In front of our people? I won’t have it! Show some compassion!”

“You feel that for him!” The vampire grasped her nape, studying her face with eyes gone black as pitch. “What other feelings linger?”

“Of course I feel compassion for him! We’ve shared years of friendship.”

“It’s my right to win this night!”

“Yes, it is—but that doesn’t mean you have to crush my best friend to do it.”

“One day, Bettina, I will reach my limit with this.” He brushed her hair back, then straightened her mask. His touch was tender even as his words were harsh: “You’d best make your plea ring out, lest I rip him apart with these hands.” Then he traced away.